Dreamers
by ArthurIsAwesome
Summary: A horrible dream has been bothering Arthur lately, and he's not sure what to do. Maybe a little help from America was all he needed. Fail summary is fail. Fail lemon is fail. Fail plot is fail. Enjoy.


**Author's Beginning Note: What is this I don't even...? I keep getting ideas for oneshots and it's putting my work on Life's Like a Jump Rope farther and farther behind... But as soon as I woke up on Saturday morning, this came to my mind, and I just needed to type this. And also, I find it so hard to write for couples that aren't UsUk. Yeah, I'm gonna get some creepy stares from a certain tiger... A FIERY tiger. I wrote most of this while listening to England's Fukkireta. Like, it seems every time I went in to type this that song was playing. I'd love to know what he's saying when he mentions America in that btw... But alas, no English lyrics to be found!**

**Disclaimer: Ok, if I owned Hetalia, why would I be wasting my awesome time writing fictional stories about my OTP when I could be making it CANNON? (BTW the new episode that came out was SCREAMING UsUk and I was like HAA! Like when England was all laughing at America for saying "No way!" it was just... squeal! If you need a link to watch it or anything, just message me.)**

**Also, there is some French in here. Translations:**

_Vous êtes si stupide – You are so stupid_

_débile ! ELLE ÉTAIT CUIVRE – moron! SHE WAS COPPER!_

**Warnings: Very poorly written yaoi! RUN FOR YOUR LIFE NOW! UsxUk **

**.::.**

A piercing scream, then sobbing.

Another dream, then? Figures.

Trembling, feminine hands rose to a red face, trying to brush away the tears that had been collecting in the corners of twin, bright green eyes. Chest heaving, breathing rough and uneven, loud sniffling and crying noises could be heard. A sweaty face, hair sticking to a damp forehead. The night was cold, but he felt hot and overwhelmed. All these emotions overflowing like a waterfall, making him feel weak and broken.

This was the ninth bloody night in a row, God _damn_ it _all_.

Arthur sat up weakly, his heavy blankets falling from his body and collecting around his pale knees. Swinging his legs off the side of the bed and tucking his feet into the warm, waiting slippers he always placed nearby, he padded out of the room, his sweat-covered nightclothes clinging to the skin on his back, stomach, and shoulders uncomfortably.

Upon entering the bathroom conveniently located down the hall, the Englishman started the shower, keeping the water cold. Freezing, in fact, considering he wanted to wake the bloody hell _up_. He couldn't stand this sleepy haze, scared he'd fall back into that terrible dream that haunted his very being. Wiping a few remaining tears from his face, he stepped into the cold stream of water without removing his clothes, and not even caring when he realized that he hadn't. He fell against the wall, leaning on it and let himself get frozen to the bone, his arms and legs covered in goose bumps. After a few minutes of this, he was shaking violently, but not only from the chilly water. Falling to his knees, he shut off the water and curled up in a ball on the chilled shower floor. How had he let himself slip this far?

It's not like the dream changed since the first time he had had it, all those months ago. He had had it once and had woken up screaming and clawing at his flesh, staining his perfect white sheets with blood. He thought it would never happen again, but over time the dream played in the night more and more often, and it was always the same, but it still hurt. Why couldn't Arthur get a grip and get past this dream? He remembered it, the scene etched in his mind, playing over and over, impossible to forget...

The dream always started with the Revolutionary War. Alfred, standing tall with his broad, strong shoulders cocked and his brilliant blue eyes (back then, without the glasses) narrowed, staring down at the sobbing redcoat. That part, Arthur could handle. He had lived through it, it was no big deal, at least not anymore. It was the twentieth century now, World War II was upon them and thinking about that old battle did no one any good. _Especially_ not Arthur. Drowning in your own sorrows gets old after a century. It was the next part of the dream, the fictional part, that killed him and ripped him apart, making his heart feel like it was being cut clean down the middle.

Always it starts so calmly after the scene changes, feigning the thought that the dream would end pleasantly...

It's raining softly in that scene. It's always raining in England, though. Not that big of a surprise there, in fact it's the most bloody normal thing in the whole damn dream. Arthur can tell it's England because you can make out Big Ben in the distance, and the people walking in the street are all proper and polite, wearing respectable clothing and chatting with British accents underneath their umbrellas.

The way it flickers to Arthur's house, almost hauntingly, is when things go downhill. How Arthur grabs his gun from the top dresser drawer, his breathing heavy and excited, he eyes red instead of green. How, no matter how he happened to be there, Alfred was in his house, lounging on the couch and watching the television with little interest. How Arthur pointed the gun at the American's chest and pulled the trigger, watching his former charge scream and bleed out on the floor. How this Arthur, this strange dream-Arthur, laughs at the sight of Alfred dying... That is when the real Arthur wakes up and screams.

Dragging himself out of the shower, Arthur yanked his dripping clothing off of his body and quickly brought a towel around his cold hips. Jerking his neck around in circles, he heard it crack and yawned softly, rubbing that tense spot between his neck and his shoulder. Walking downstairs, Arthur glanced at the hallway clock. It was four in the morning. Lovely! Only five hours until the Allies meeting started... Groaning, Arthur cursed himself for waking up so damn early, even if it wasn't really his fault.

If you saw the person you love get shot – by _yourself_ no less - you'd feel pretty shitty too.

After entering the kitchen, Arthur began to prepare a cup of tea for himself. His favorite Earl Grey with milk and sugar* would do nicely to bring up his usually low or just plain non-existent spirits. Arthur would have to collect himself before the meeting, he couldn't stand to face Alfred and then break down crying at the thought of seeing him dead. He'd look ridiculous, as if he'd gone completely mad! Not that Alfred would talk to him anyway, the taller nation was usually busy just trying to boss the others around and get Ivan to stop sending people rape glares.

Running his pale, thin hands through his wet, fair hair, he sighed heavily as the water on the stove heated. These dreams didn't... _mean _anything, did they? Arthur knew he would never, not in a hundred years – no – he would never, _ever_, hurt Alfred. He cared about him too much, that precious country he had raised. Whether it was brotherly, or something perhaps a bit more... Arthur felt uncomfortable thinking about it, the way things had changed so drastically in the past century or so. All he really knew was that he wanted the dreams to stop.

With a small, strangled smile, Arthur whispered,"Alfred..." and sunk to the floor, sobbing once more.

Not a dream... It was a nightmare.

**.::.**

"Alright guys, lets get down to bizzzzness! We gotta make some totally awesome battle strategies so we can kick those Axis guy's asses! My theory is you all back me up, and I'll be the hero!"

"_Amerique_, the last time you suggested that, we all disagreed. What makes you think we're going to change our minds? _Vous êtes si stupide_!"

"Why don't you all just become one with Russia, da?"

"Lets just calm down and have some snacks, aru!"

England's eye twitched as everyone started yelling and trying to make their voices be heard over the others. Ivan wasn't really, but he was sending everyone his creepy stare that made Yao's voice falter and fade away. Alfred and Francis were still barking at each other, firing "No, _YOU'RE _stupid!" back and forth. Once they realized that they were the only two still arguing, they cleared their throats and both sat, glaring at each other.

"What's your problem Francis, why don't you go back to making us hot green chick statues like you used to?"

"She was _copper_, _débile ! ELLE ÉTAIT CUIVRE_!"

"Won't both of you shut the bloody hell up?" Arthur screamed, standing up in a huff. If he was a bird, his feathers would've been ruffled beyond comprehension. "I can't take your foolish fighting! Listen, we're all Allies here! We just need to work together to formulate ideas on how to win this war and if we keep arguing like this at every single meeting we hold we're never going to get anything done, and then we'll lose! There are innocent people dying in Germany and Poland and various other places because we haven't saved them yet! Get your act together, this isn't all fun and games! _Bloody fucking hell_, babies, mothers, fathers, entire families are all dying every day! Tell me when you're done acting like children!"

Turning over his chair as he left, Arthur briskly exited the room. He patience was tried again and again and he'd had enough! The dream from earlier was almost entirely forgotten now, replaced with anger. Arthur walked briskly down the hall and into the restroom. Sighing, he looked in the mirror, glaring at his own reflection. Why was he so easily angered? He slowly ran a finger over one of his eyebrows, frowning unhappily.

He felt like such a girl (no offense meant, ladies), criticizing his appearance in the mirror. Damn, though, his eyebrows were huge! Was he getting fat? That wasn't a grey hair, was it? He just didn't feel attractive anymore... Arthur almost snarled out loud when he heard a loud American out in the hallway.

"England? Hey, England! Are you in there?"

Sighing in defeat, Arthur snapped,"Yes I am. What do you want, you bloody _loud _git?"

"Well," he heard Alfred's voice drop a bit,"I just wanted to apologize for how I was acting. Both Francis and I agreed that we all need to get along if we want this war to work out in our favor. Please, come out of there. We need you if we're going to work on our kickass battle strategies!"

Arthur, oddly enough, felt slightly touched that the two took his words to heart instead of just brushing him off. It made him feel a bit better. He opened the door and was about to step out when he saw how close Alfred had been to the door, and almost ran into the tall nation. Looking up, Arthur caught those bright, young eyes, and saw himself in their reflection as Alfred shuffled back a bit to let his former mentor out. Unlike the reflection in the bathroom mirror, Arthur thought he actually looked pretty nice in those twin pools of blue. Alfred smiled widely and was about to return to the meeting room when Arthur said,"Hey, America?"

Raising an eyebrow, Alfred looked back down at Arthur and replied,"Yeah?"

Rubbing one of his arms a bit sheepishly, Arthur continued,"Well, I just... I've been having these... _dreams_ lately."

Smirking, Alfred laughed,"What do you mean? More about unicorns taking over the world?" Arthur frowned,"HEY! That dream was some _serious business_. If Uni and his army would have taken over the world, we would have been _screwed_."

After a second of silence and staring at each other, the two burst out laughing at how ridiculous that had sounded. While the American just laughed lazily, amused by his former mentor's silliness, Arthur was clutching his sides and trying not to cry. He hadn't laughed in such a long time, and the sound just made him want to laugh harder. After a while Alfred had to ask,"You ok, England? I don't think I've ever seen you laugh so hard. It wasn't _that _funny."

Taking a few deep breaths Arthur just nodded, patting Alfred's shoulder. "I guess I just never get the opportunity."

Frowning, the younger nation murmured,"Everyone deserves to laugh! You need to laugh more, England. You sound really cu- ..._nice_. Anyway... What were you saying about dreams?"

Clearing his throat, Arthur wasn't sure he wanted to tell the American anymore. The two could just return the the meeting room in a decent mood, and bringing up those terrible dreams would do neither of them good. But, Arthur _did _want to discuss them with Alfred, and now might be the only chance for a while... Sighing, Arthur's face dropped from cheerful to strained. He didn't want to get into this now, he decided.

"Oh... Well, heh, it's not a big deal actually. I've just been having the same dream over and over the past few nights. I don't even know why I brought it up, it doesn't matter. It's pretty stupid anyway... It's about... _leprechauns_. Pretty silly, huh?"

He stood, his fake smile plastered on his face, his eyes not meeting the younger nation's. Alfred studied him for a moment then smiled again, chuckling softly,"You've always been a horrible liar, England," and brushed Arthur's messy hair out of his face. Arthur blushed, sputtering,"I-I'm not lying, y-you git! I just don't wish to discuss it!" Alfred shook his head slowly and gently brushed his fingers through the older nation's soft hair before pulling away and taking a step back.

"Should we get back to the meeting now?"

Arthur wanted to say 'Yes, of course, lets go!' but he couldn't. Alfred was so close... He could feel his body heat radiating through that handsome bomber jacket. Snagging Alfred by his wrist, Arthur whispered,"I-I- think..."

It was the American's turn to sputter and blush as he was yanked down, his lips caught with the Brit's. As Arthur's lips moved gently against the younger nation's, all he could think was '_Arthur, you're a bloody fool! Kissing him, right out of nowhere like that! Oh please, don't let this ruin everything..._'

However, Alfred didn't run away or start screaming or punch Arthur like the older nation had expected. Instead, he had slowly began kissing back, a soft smile forming on his lips. All too soon, however, the taller of the two pulled away and simply stated,"After the meeting, you're going to tell me about your dreams." With a new, rambunctious smirk, Alfred turned away and marched back down the hall and into the meeting room.

Clutching his chest unconsciously, Arthur exhaled very slowly.

That went better than he'd expected.

**.::.**

"And then,"Arthur sighed as he walked slowly through the door to the American's hotel room,"I j-just shot you! Just like that! And I even smiled! After that I always wake up."

Alfred turned to the right, shrugging out of his bomber jacket before tossing it onto a chair. "Want me to make you some tea, England? I think there is some in here. Not that I'd drink the stuff." Arthur nodded a bit, taking a seat in the chair without the jacket on it, and pinched the bridge of his nose. Alfred quietly started to heat some water, preparing a mug for the tea.

"I just don't know how to make them stop! I mean, it's not like I have some mad desire to go around shooting people..." The Englishman leaned back in the chair, his eyes closing. "It's terrible, how graphic it is. Sure, I've shot people before in wars and such... But I've never once wanted to shoot you."

"Heh, what about the Revolutionary War? You seemed pretty intent on shooting me then, England. You didn't, yeah, we all _get_ that... But surely, you must have wanted to? At least for a second." With the prepared tea, Alfred crossed the room and handed the Brit the cup, smiling. Arthur nodded his thanks, taking a large sip.

With a sigh, Arthur replied,"Maybe for a split-second... But the thing is, when I had the gun pointed at you, I didn't _see you_. Not the new, bigger Alfred, but the tiny colony that Finland found. I was pointing the gun at that image of you, of course I couldn't shoot you. I loved you. I... s-still..." Trailing off, he took another swig of the bitter tea.

Alfred plopped down on the couch, a serious look on the usually joking face. Patting the space next to him, he beckoned for Arthur to come sit by him. Flushing, the Englishman stood and walked over, sitting as far on the opposite side of the couch as possible, setting his tea on the coffee table nearby. Alfred rolled his eyes, a small smirk forming on his face, and he scooted closer to his former mentor.

"Well, I guess I'm just happy you didn't shoot me. That would've sucked, getting blood all over my nice uniform."

Arthur frowned, shaking his head before continuing,"Well, what do you think? Are these dreams turning me into a senile old man?"

"Aw England, you already _are _a senile old man!"

"Git!"

Alfred wrapped one of his long, muscular arms around Arthur's shoulders and laughed loudly. "You know I'm kidding. I don't think you're going crazy, if that's what you want to hear. Maybe you just miss me a lot." Arthur snorted and mumbled,"I'd thought I'd made that clear earlier today."

Alfred gently placed a kiss on Arthur's forehead, whispering,"Well, I haven't made it clear just how much _I've _missed _you_."

Arthur blushed uncontrollably, and chuckled a bit. "Honestly, I'm surprised you've missed me at all... I'll admit it, I was a bit unfair with those taxes." Something flashed in the American's eyes, and before he knew it, Arthur was pinned underneath the larger, heavier country, his body being forced against the couch.

"A _BIT _unfair? You were _totally _unfair! You taxed loads of stuff that shouldn't have been taxed! You totally used me, you got all the crap from me you wanted and in return I got a bunch of taxes. Incredibly _loving _of you, _brother dear_."

The older of the two winced and muttered,"Don't call me your brother..."

Pulling his lip up in an angry sneer, he continued,"Don't worry, I won't. You're not my brother anymore. I see you very differently now. I just hope you know that I wouldn't have left you if you hadn't have been so controlling."

Trying desperately to look away from the younger nation's fierce eyes, Arthur replied,"I know you'll never regret leaving. I don't blame you, ok? I'm not looking to argue with you, America. We've both changed, and I know that things are never going to go back to the way they were... But I don't _want _them too."

Alfred, appearing to have calmed a bit, sighed and lifted most of his weight off the Englishman, supporting himself by his elbows that rested on either side of the Brit's body. Slowly, he tilted the older nation's face towards his own, looking into those striking green eyes. "I'm sorry, England. I didn't mean to upset you. I just feel really strongly about my decisions, that's all."

The Englishman snorted,"I'm not upset, really. I just... I feel like you're never really going to be able to forgive me for what I did."

Alfred laughed, bending down closer to Arthur's face, and said in a matter-of-fact sort of way,"I already _have _forgiven you... Arthur."

Before he knew it, Arthur was being kissed by the American. He allowed his lips to part, blushing as the younger nation's tongue made it's way into his mouth. There was no real battle for dominance as Alfred's hands cupped the smaller nation's face lovingly, shifting his weight back to his knees. Arthur's arms snaked around the taller nation's neck as he broke away for air, his eyes watery.

"America..." he began, not knowing what to say, but still he felt that he should say _something_. He wasn't sure if he should say something along the lines of "GET OFF ME WE CAN'T DO THIS!" or "Oh bloody _hell _America, I love you!"

"Please, call me Alfred."

Alfred was looking down at Arthur with an almost pleading face. Did he really feel that serious about his former brother? Feeling his heart ramming wildly in he chest, Arthur let out a soft,"Alfred, then." Alfred's face lit up, and he moved to the Brit's pale neck, kissing and sucking it slowly, making sure that there would be marks left behind.

Arthur let out a soft moan, loving the feeling of the larger nation above him. Alfred moved back up to Arthur's ear, nipping at it before asking,"What would you like to do now, Arthur? Hmm?" Arthur cringed, gripping the young nation tighter. "I-I don't bloody care! Anything!"

Laughing, the other replied mercilessly,"_Anything_? Bite your tongue, you'll regret saying that."

Gasping, Arthur nearly cried out in surprise when he felt his jacket being torn off of him, his shirt and tie following after it quickly. He hadn't expected Alfred to get _this _eager. He couldn't help but notice the growing bulge in his pants, and whimpered when Alfred began nipping and kissing his way down the Englishman's chest. Eventually, Alfred made his way to an excited nipple. He smirked, licking and nibbling it slowly before sucking it with vigor. Arthur trembled beneath him, his breathing becoming shaky and uneven.

Too soon for Arthur's liking, Alfred's mouth moved farther down, gently kissing along the way, until it came to the older nation's pants. He looked up, blue eyes meeting green, silently asking for permission. Arthur's face flushed as he nodded, closing his eyes tightly. He felt large, rough hands unbutton and unzip the offending clothing, feeling them get tugged off with little grace.

Arthur felt terribly self-conscious now, covering his face with his hands sheepishly. Alfred had hooked a finger under the rim of Arthur's boxers, but paused when he noticed Arthur's strange behavior.

"Arthur...? Are you ok?"

The Brit mumbled,"I'm fine, you bloody idiot..." but only pressed his face into his hands harder. Alfred gently tugged one hand away, a small frown on his face.

"Don't cover your face, Artie. You're beautiful, you know. You don't have to be embarrassed."

Slowly, the other hand fell from Arthur's face. "My name is _Arthur_, not 'Artie'." Alfred smiled and hastily pressed a loving kiss on Arthur's lips, this one softer than the previous ones had been, filled with meaning. Arthur broke away first, quickly tugging Alfred's shirt off of him, muttering things along the lines of "Bloody git, thinks he gets to keep all his clothes on..."

Alfred threw his shirt onto the growing pile of clothes that lay nearby and chuckled a bit before wiggling out of his own pants. If the Englishman was blushing before, then his head must have been fit to explode the moment when he realized that the two were only clad in boxers. Alfred felt chills run down his spine when Arthur's fingers trailed over the panes of his chest and his abdomen, slightly tickling him. There was something new in the Brit's eyes, something Alfred hadn't seen in them before, unsure if it was love or lust.

Once again, Alfred grabbed Arthur's boxers and proceeded to remove them from the flushed, smaller body beneath him. Slowly he studied the nation he was about to conquer and couldn't help but let a devilish grin break out on his face. He really did think Arthur was beautiful, a sappy thing to say, but true nonetheless. Arthur's eyes were closed again, and Alfred only shook his head before removing his own boxers.

"Arthur?"

Arthur groaned,"What is it _now_, Alfred?"

"Hey, come on, open your eyes. I want you to see me. I want you to see what I'm going to do to you."

Slowly, Arthur's eyes cracked back open. He nearly screamed at what he saw, his skin growing unbearably hot. The American snickered, dragging one of his fingers up the Brit's length, which had already become incredibly hard in the past few minutes. "Impatient, are we?" Arthur squirmed, desperate for Alfred to stop teasing with him. "Shut up, wanker! Just take care of the problem you started!"

Deciding to play nice, Alfred gripped Arthur's cock firmly at it's base and began pumping up and down slowly, savoring every moment he got to see what used to be one of the most powerful empires in history whimper beneath him. Arthur groaned at the agonizingly slow pace and thrust his hips into the large hand.

"Damn Arthur, we have all night! I'm not going anywhere."

Alfred pulled his hand away, much to the Brit's dissatisfaction. Arthur was about to start complaining when he felt something entirely different engulf his leaking member, causing him to moan louder than of Alfred's hand, it was Alfred's mouth sending Arthur into ecstasy. Fleetingly, Arthur wondered how many men the younger nation had been with in order to know how to do this so well. Alfred's tongue coated the painfully erect cock before it swirled around the tip, causing Arthur to lose his train of thought. Before he knew it, Alfred was attempting to take the entire member into his mouth.

Arthur was struggling not to thrust up as Alfred's mouth continued to move farther and farther down his cock, to the point where the American had to hold onto the smaller nation's hips down forcefully. Blue eyes looked up, wondering if he was pleasing his current partner, and when he saw the older nation moaning and panting softly, his face red and hot, Alfred felt a bit pleased. Was he really causing Arthur... pleasure?

Taking another quick breath, Alfred closed how mouth around as much of Arthur as he could, sucking softly. Arthur's breath hitched and he cried,"Alfred... I-I'm- aah!"

Alfred, being a trooper and all, attempted to swallow as much of the liquid as he could, some of it dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. While he did not exactly love the taste, he figured it was one he could get used to, especially if it was Arthur's. He pulled himself up again, pressing his wet lips against Arthur's for a sloppy kiss, forcing the Brit to taste himself on the younger nation's tongue.

The two pulled away from each other, a thin string of saliva connecting their lips before it broke. Feeling a bit more in control, the American snickered,"It's _my turn_, Artie."

Alfred raised his right hand, pressing three of his fingers against the older nation's mouth in a slightly commanding way. While Arthur had never bottomed before, (It's not like the frog was ever any good at topping) he knew what was to come, and obeyed without question. Alfred's neglected member was becoming almost unbearable for him to handle, and as soon as he thought that his fingers were moist enough, he pulled them away.

While Alfred had had some experience in this sort of activity, he always found this part to be the most awkward for him, never really knowing what to say. But with Arthur, it seemed different. It seemed _right_.

"Are you ready?" he asked breathlessly, gently brushing the back of his hand on the Englishman's cheek. Arthur nodded, thought he looked a bit worried. Alfred knew as well as anyone that promising him that it wouldn't hurt was just a lie, and it didn't really make anything feel better. With a soft smile on his lightly tanned face, Alfred pressed the first finger into the smaller nation with care, while stroking himself, attempting to keep his nerves at bay.

Arthur made a small hissing noise, altering the angle of his body, attempting to get into a comfortable position. Alfred slowly began moving his finger in and out, waiting until Arthur looked comfortable enough to add the second, then third. It took a while, but before he knew it Arthur seemed to feel mostly comfortable and bit more eager. Alfred curled his fingers, attempting to find that one, certain spot...

"Ah!"

_There_ it was.

Alfred continued hitting that spot with his fingers, enjoying the sounds of pleasure escaping the Brit's mouth. However, his erection was still causing him a great deal of discomfort, so he pulled his fingers out entirely. Arthur whined at the empty feeling and looked up at Alfred with anxious eyes. Smiling half-hearted, Alfred leaned down to kiss his new lover hastily.

"Just stay calm, Arthur. It'll feel great after a while."

Arthur didn't show any sign of response, but he really didn't need to. Positioning himself carefully over the former empire, he aligned himself with Arthur, slowly pushing himself in. He didn't miss the soft gasps and angry hisses from beneath him, no matter how badly Arthur tried to hide them or hold them in. There were tears forming in the corners of his bright green eyes, and he refused to look up at his former charge, instead keeping his eyes locked on something random across the room to distract himself from the current situation. As a few tears slipped down the Englishmans's cheeks, Alfred whispered,"Arthur, are you ok?"

Taking a deep breath, Arthur replied simply,"I-It hurts..." trying to seem tough, but his voice broke slightly. Alfred littered the Brit with kisses, from his lips to his neck, collar bone and shoulders, adding soft "I'm sorry"'s between kisses. Slowly he began pulling out, only to once again thrust back in. He kept the slow pace going, dying to forget about Arthur's feelings or discomfort and just let his instincts take over, but he was determined not to cause the Englishman too much pain. After a bit, Arthur actually let out a soft moan and whispered,"Faster, Alfred, please..."

Alfred smiled and replied,"You never have to say please while we're doing this, Arthur."

As Alfred sped up, he began searching for that spot again, the one that would make Arthur see stars. It didn't take him much time to find it, and was satisfied when he heard Arthur crying his name. Slowly, Alfred pace continued to build until he could no longer keep a consistent rhythm, and reached down to grab Arthur's cock once more, a bit pleased to notice that it had hardened again. Being pleasured in more ways than one, it was no surprise when Arthur came again, crying Alfred's name loudly, his muscles tightening around the hard length that was inside of him and covering their stomachs with the fluid. Upon hearing his name, his _own_ name, being called out in such a manner, Alfred felt himself get pushed over the edge as he too climaxed, panting heavily.

The two lay there for a moment, trying to regain their breath, Alfred practically collapsing on top of the Brit. Chuckling breathlessly, Alfred murmured,"Arthur... I think I might love you._ Maybe_."

Arthur rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face showed how he really felt. Gently kissing the younger nation's nose, he replied,"You better love me, you bloody git. Now get off of me, I need a shower." Alfred frowned and pulled out, rolling off of the Englishman and onto the floor with a _thud_! Groaning, the American stood up and walked over to his suitcase, pulling out some nightclothes. "You'll cuddle with me after the shower, right?"

Snorting, Arthur replied,"Sure, sure, I'll cuddle with you."

That night, Arthur's dreams were free of their hellish prison. For the first night in a long time, Arthur slept happily, curled up in the American's arms.

"Sweet dreams, Artie."

**.::.**

***Early Grey + Milk + a few teaspoons of sugar = the best cup of tea your mom has ever had, dammit.**

**Author's End Note: So uh yeah there you have it! Sorry if I disappointed anyone...? *hangs head in shame* It was my first shot at a lemony type fic, instead of like limey or just... Fluffy. I shrug. **

**I recently saw this stamp on deviantART, and it kinda bummed me out. I understand when people don't like UsUk because they see it as a family thing, but it wasn't as simple as "America grows up and fucks his daddy cuz he can, you guys r like so gross for liking that incest shit." You can't go around saying that... There's far more into it than just that. I don't know, it just almost made me feel ashamed for writing for this couple (yeah I get influenced very easily...). But it's still my OTP.**

**Reviews make me happy. Especially if they are nice reviews. Although to be honest, I'm convinced that everyone on this website is really nice xD I've never once gotten a mean review. Cheers!**


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